Consider the Halls
by lightofhislife
Summary: Sequel to my first story, skipping ahead to the final battle at Hogwarts. Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
1. Fritinancy

She had so much to consider. No time to consider any of it. Sitting alone in the Great Hall, Sarah stared at her wand and more importantly, the fingers curled around them. It was only a matter of time before the chaos was unleashed upon the school.

Snape as Headmaster was what caused her to question her values, working both in her favor and against her. On one hand, her dominant right hand, she was as safe as her bloodlines were pure. On the other, her weak left hand, she couldn't watch the public torture of people like Neville Longbottom, who clearly didn't deserve it.

In less than an hour, she was guessing, she would need to be willing to die for whichever allegiance she felt was worth it. There could be no hiding. There could be no avoidance.

Her mouth felt too dry.

Then she heard the uproar in the hall. All of the students in the building were shepherded into the Great Hall by prefects and teachers. They filled in the tables and McGonagall stood before the crowd of students in their pajamas. She herself was wearing a nightcap, though her robes were the same bottle green ones she always wore.

"Now, I want silence," she called out sternly, not even needing to raise her voice for silence. Despite the confusion, everyone was waiting to hear what was happening. "We need to evacuate the school. This will be headed by Madame Pomfrey and Mr. Filch, but prefects, I want you all keeping your houses in the closest semblance of order as you are able to. Students who are at least 17 may stay and fight."

Sarah buried her face into her hands. Sixteen, but still fighting. She wished to join the younger kids on the train. She wished it was still the time she had nothing to fear but passing her finals and few worries apart from avoiding booger flavor Bertie Bott's.

Students were filing out, first Slytherins from the table at the far right. No students remained behind, taking into account all of the ones who were already Death Eaters were elsewhere in the building and Sarah was sitting among the Hufflepuffs. Of the other houses, scattered numbers of students remained. Colin Creevey was underage. Why was he here? She always found him very annoying, but in the sense of a cousin younger than herself. She knew protecting him was no option and McGonagall was occupied on the far side of the room with some fourth years who tried to pass for 17.

By the time everyone was out, the room erupted in jittery and filler-like chatter that felt like a silent movie to Sarah.

All she saw was a fire before her eyes, tendrils of warmth curling around her body. She lay on the wooden floor, enjoying the contrast between that which lay before her and what was behind her. She stretched and relaxed her muscles, eyes half open. "Do you plan on sleeping on the floor?" Snape asked dryly. "There is another bed, you know, if the idea of sharing a place of sleep with a gentlemen so appalls you," he said, tight smile in his voice, though not his face.

"I'm just comfortable here. I find it pretty sweet that it always feels cold inside, despite the weather being bad enough to cook a living creature who lays in the sun for too long."

This time, he smiled a little and sat on the floor beside her. He leaned against an armchair, stroking her hair. "Do I look like a cat to you?" Sarah teased.

"If you did, I would be worried about this attraction to you I'm feeling at the moment," he answered, intending it as a joke but without any indication of whimsy. She rolled over smiling at him, sliding into a sitting position, her back against the same chair his was. Sarah leaned against him, eyes alert.

Her finger spiralled around the button on his shirtsleeve, the same motion of the spinners his home was named after. His other arm was around her like a vise, though somehow it felt right that way because she didn't want to fall away from him by chance.

Someone shook her out of her memory, someone telling her the battle was going to start. Dashing from the Great Hall, she began searching in hopes of finding Severus. She knew the placement of each line on the silver mask, the exact shape of the mask itself.

"Oh! Sarah!" she heard Molly cry from the end of the hall. Sarah walk toward her, not expecting to be pulled into a hug. Arthur stood grimly behind her. "You are far too young; why didn't you catch the train? Well, no matter, I suppose. You should stay in the Room of Requirement with Ginny," she held Sarah at her arm's length, staring into her eyes in a severe way. She would behave like a mother bear, fiercely protecting those she cared for. The concern in her eyes made Sarah feel a dull ache of guilt trying to bore itself out of her brain.

"I can't, Mrs. Weasley," she whispered.

"I'll have none of that. Wait with Ginny," she said, turning Sarah toward the wall to wait for a heavy iron door to form. She urged Sarah into the door, leaving her alone with a pair of frustrated eyes.

"Hi, Sarah."

Sarah waved, too annoyed to respond kindly. It bought her time but not enough. Sitting, she and Ginny heard a number of curses and explosions before her mind rolled her back to summer.

Sometimes, Severus would disappear from Spinner's End to do things for the Dark Lord. She saw him conjured the mask over his face from dust and vanish. Days later, he would reappear with nothing but waffled conversation. He gave no explanation but that he was needed, even once when he returned with a tumid eye. She frittered her time alone by writing letters and doing her summer homework. When he was gone, she felt so very alone that she could barely sleep. She worried sometimes that a Lethifold might wander into the house, even if they didn't inhabit areas as cool as this. The summer heat felt close enough to tropics to her, so why might a shadowy monster not think the same? She feared that her Patronus wouldn't be strong enough to repel one because she couldn't practice.

On occasion, chains of darkly masked links would show up on his doorstep, demanding entrance. Sometimes, Sarah sat quietly in the room with them. More often, he hid her away, not wanting others to know precisely how much time they spent together. Any relationship could be used to harm them, particularly one so dangerously interwound.

The last evening back before start of term, the fritinancy outside seemed to blare more prominently inside the cool building than the sunlight had earlier on. She lay quietly, waiting for sleep.

"He's making me headmaster," Snape said dully, as if reporting the score of a sports team.

That was another catalyst.


	2. Radiation

Once, they were almost seen.

Not by the Carrows, nor by students. No, it was worse. In the throne-like chair Severus sat, he unleashed his disdain upon the students who were at his mercy. He never allowed any killing, though harm came to those who dared rebel like Luna and to those who he had already had a distaste for like Neville.

It was like Dumbledore's office still, but it had an different air to it, a more stifling air. Just the same, Sarah visited when she finished her work. She had an illuminating feeling that night; something inside her was positively glowing. Something around her heart was glowing more brightly than the full moon outside, something that was enough enough to melt away the lead.

Severus stood when she entered, welcoming her into his office. Stretching up, she pressed her lips to his. It had been days.

When she pulled her face from his, they stood still in close proximity of one another. McGonagall entered at that moment, seeing their faces so close. She looked suspiciously infuriated but said nothing.


	3. Incorrect

There was some sort of spectacle in the Great Hall, judging by the crowd. The largest portion of people tried to avert their eyes, sealing their ears from the screams and from the laughter of the worst of Slytherins.

Ginny, Neville, Luna. They were caught stealing from the Headmaster.

Cassie and Gianna. Speaking against the Dark Lord.

Two Gryffindor boys. Conspiracy.

A little Ravenclaw. Questioning Amycus.

Not one of them deserved it.


	4. Nagini

Harry was in the room now. Sarah heard everything like she was under water, and similarly her limbs felt weightless. Ginny ushered her out, explaining it, but the speed of sound had changed. Ginny whipped out her wand, pointing it at a tall, rapid looking Death Eater. "Petrificus totalis!"

Sarah looked to see dark robed figured battling enchanted suits of armor.

Ginny pulled Sarah along, still dazed but now paying more attention. Percy Weasley fiercely fought a Death Eater near the ruins of a wall. Near the corpse of his brother. Another wave of guilt hit Sarah, this time containing jellyfish, tendrils wrapping around her, not in a feeling of warmth but this time with a burning feeling pearmeating her skin, ripping through her bone. The agony reacher her bone marrow this time.

"He's in the Shreiking Shack! He's in the Shreiking Shack!" Harry called out to Ron and Hermione. Consciousness ripping though her skull, she pulled herself from Ginny's grasp. No matter how Snape would feel about her decision of allegiance, it was something she had to do.

Keeping her eyes on Harry, she whispered spells at the black robes, hoping to have the advantage of not being heard in the uproar. Crooked wands flew away from their masters, into the rubble and madness surrounding them. Disarmed, they could do little to resist, falling in a desperate attempt to find their wands.

Sarah chased Harry outside, ignoring her lungs' desperate cries for more air. Ron was just behind Hermione, gripping his wand in one hand and her wrist in the other. It was still unusual to see him with someone other than Cassie, as unusual as it was to see the uptight friend finally letting people know she felt more than friendship.

"The Whomping Willow!" Harry called out.

Sarah tried not to attract their attention as she avoided the branches that came precariously close to decapitating her more than once. The tree stopped moving to allow the trio in, but resumed its violence the moment they passed through the hold.

She followed them into the tree, not letting them know she was there until they could not tell her to leave without making themselves known to the men in the tree. Seeing only the back of Lucius Malfoy, who was departing, they saw the Dark Lord himself, his snake in a magical cage that lay close by him. Snape stood at a fair distance away.

"Let me find Potter, my Lord, I can bring him to you," Snape bargained desperately. "Please."

"Well, Severus, I have a bit of a problem."

"My Lord?"

The wand looked like it was made of a series of honeycombs as he held it between his fingers. "Why doesn't it work for me?" he voice was soft, resembling that of the 11 year old boy in Dumbledore's memories.

"My Lord," Severus said nervously. "You've performed extraordinary magic with this wand."

"No, I've performed magic to the usual extent of my ability," Voldemort shook his head. "I am extraordinary," Sarah supressed a tiny giggle at his words, thinking of Lockhart. The situation was too severe for it to truly be funny. "It is no different from the wand I have from Ollivander."

Snape seemed to be looking for the right words to convince his master. Sarah's skin prickled, knowing that danger was coming.

"Are you aware of why I called you from battle?"

"No, my Lord, but I beg you to allow me to find Potter."

"Neither you nor Lucius understand him in the way that I do. Heroic Potter will come to us. His weakness is watching others fall before him. He knows that it is for him that it happens. He can't bear to see it. He will come to stop it."

"What if he is accidently killed, my Lord, by someone other than yourself?"

"My instructions were clear. Kill everyone fighting on his side, as many of his friends as possible, until he surrenders or is captured. But kill him under no circumstances. I wanted to speak of you, though, Severus. As much as you've been valuable to me, Severus," he sounded like an employer, telling him misuse of the company copier had been the final straw. "My concern is that when I meet the boy…"

"Surely there cannot be a question, my Lord?"

"There is, Severus. Why did both wands fail when directed at the boy?"

"I don't have the ability to answer that."

"Don't you?"

"I have no explanation."

"Severus, this is the Wand of Destiny. It was taken from the grave of its previous master," Voldemort explained. Snape's dark eyes were not moving from Nagini, his face such an unearthly shade that he looked like he wore his silver mask. "I've been wondering," he raised his hand to stop Snape from interrupting. "why this is. The legend explains how the wand acknowledges one as its master. Now, I have an answer. Perhaps you have guessed as well? You are no fool, Severus. So long as you have you life, I will never take Harry's. The Elder Wand cannot truly be mine because it recognizes you as its true master."

"My Lord—"

"There is no other way. I must master the wand. I have no choice if I am going to finally bring down Potter," Voldemort turned his face to Nagini, whispering to her in a tongue Sarah didn't understand. "I do regret things must go this way." It was as when dust fell away from his face, an unchangeable expression turning to horror. He let out a small yell before Nagini tore into his neck. Severus was on the floor now. "Truly, I do."

The Dark Lord left the shack, Nagini behind him.


	5. Blood

Sarah followed Harry to the room before them, kneeling next to Severus.

His fingers stretched and she places hers against his, holding his cool hands. Severus smiled weakly, looking between Harry and Sarah.

"Take it…" he gurgled quietly. Silver fluid flowed from his eyes, ears, and mouth. Filling the flask Hermione had conjured, his grip slackened. His hand felt, not like dead weight but hallow. "Look at me," he forced the whisper, breathing no more. His focused eyes moved upward slightly as he finally died.

Sarah felt as if the blood on the floor was her own.

Maybe it should've been.


	6. Elixer

Walking back to the castle was painful. The words echoing around the grounds were cold. They were murderous. Sarah felt a degree of rage she'd never felt. Voldemort would go down if she had to die in the process. She looked down at the ground, at her feet, as she always did when walking. Her gray school skirt was stain red from kneeling on the floor and her knees were covered in drying red. "-collect your dead and surrender. You have one hour before I kill those who resist one by one; I do not wish to spill magical blood but at times, it become necessary. It would be a waste. I would love nothing more than for you to all join me willingly. Speaking to you specifically, Harry, I will kill all resisting. In an hour, the battle will continue. You will give youself to me willingly or I will join myself and ensure you are found and know all of those you love are destroyed before you."

_You have one hour_. The voice ran through Sarah's head over and over. She still hadn't noticed how hard she was crying, nor that Hermione was trying to steady her so she could walk without falling from lack of oxygen.

When they reached the Great Hall, more than 50 bodies lay in a line, the most terrifying sight of all being Molly's face, bright red and eyes that created alone the third wave of guilt to hit Sarah. This one was like the second, only Dementors plagued the shores that initially offered her salvation. Britta and Neville sat together with Luna and a cluster of Hufflepuffs. All of the group bore marks of battle, though none severe. Harry had hugged Ginny and disappeared.

Sarah took a deep breath, as if the oxygen was an elixer of bravery.

_One hour._

In less than an hour, she would fight for the memory of Snape and 50 others. For the families of someone who ever lost family and friends because of the Dark Lord's orders. For Muggles like Austin and his family who didn't deserve death or enslavement for not waving a wand to get their way. For Muggleborns who have helped her—Hermione, Britta. For half-bloods and squibs.


	7. Sheep

But it was too late.

Hagrid carried a limp figure that had closed eyes behind round glasses.

"This is what has become of your hero," hissed the Dark Lord to the crowd of people that were standing outside and watching the victory march. Sarah stood by Mr. Weasley. Molly had her face buried into her hands, making a horrible whimpering sound because she couldn't cry anymore. Percy put his arm around his mother, letting her head lean into his shoulder. "You are outnumbered. He died trying to save himself. He was sneaking from the castle. Trying to preserve his own life as you all fell."

A cry of despair, "NO!", rang out from the back of the hall. McGonagall's pain prompted Bellatrix's delighted cackles. Several calls of "LIES!" rose from the crowd. Sarah diverted her eyes from the great, weeping half-giant, suddenly seeing Neville break from the crowd. Bellatrix's eyes widened in delectation, her cackling only getting louder.

"Who is this?" Voldemort demanded.

"Neville Longbottom, my Lord," she giggled. "Son of Aurors—the one who had given such trouble to the Carrows."

"Oh, I remember," her nodded, smiling. "You are a pureblood, are you not?"

"What difference does it make?" Neville looked menacing, his hands in tight fists.

"You show bravery, spirit. We need your kind for out army. Join us, Neville," he said smiling as sweetly as a snake-like man with vividly red eyes could.

"I'll never join you! DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY!"

"Very well, very well," Voldemort said. "I suppose we'll need to use our original plan. Hogwarts will no longer sort, but will instead all do the work of the _noble_work of Salizar Slytherin." Neville saw on his head a mildewed hat flying through the air and propping itself on his head. "Won't you, Neville? Neville will now become an example for all those wishing to resist."

Britta was quivering, fear and rage waiting to escape. Neville's feet frozen to the floor, the hat burst into flames.

"HAGGAR!" Grawp was moving around outside, sounding like thunder, in opposition to Voldemort's trolls. War cries echoed just outside of where they were standing, centaurs moving into action. Neville, using the Death Eater's distraction to his advantage, broke from the Body bind curse, throwing the hat from his head.

As the hat fell, it made a clanging noise, the hilt of the sword of Godric Gryffindor slipped from the inside of the hat. He drew it quickly, dropping it onto the head of Nagini, slicing it off with a thud. Voldemort opened his mouth to curse Neville, not getting the chance because everyone jumped into action at once. Buckbeak was leading in the thestrals and they all began pecking at the eyes of giants, working in a team with Grawp who was simultaneously batting at them with his massive fists.

A cluster of small creatures with wide eyes and bat-like ears stood in the entrance. "Fight for the hero Regulus Black! Protector of House-elves! Fight! Fight!" cried Kreacher at the head of the tiny army.

Everyone tried to get out from underfoot of the giants around them, duels beginning.

Together, McGonagall, Slughorn, and Kingsley danced around Voldemort, avoiding his spells and he was skillfully avoiding theirs.

Yaxley seemed to be shouting Unforgivable Curses at random, missing each time. With one swift flick of his wrist, Percy sent him through a wall. Ron and Neville stood across from each other, cursing Fenrir in unison.

Aberforth Dumbledore, a man with eyes as piercing as his brother's, moved nimbly against Thicknesse, though almost getting hit by a green jet of light sent by Rookwood. Arthur ducked the Cruciatus Curse, running toward Rookwood with his wand drawn, stupefying him.

Britta partnered with Gianna, cursing a man who greatly resembled a bulldog. He growled after being hit, making a final attempt to kill either girl.

Harry moved through the crowd, trying to help everyone and completely ignoring Narcissa and Lucius who were trying to find their son. Ginny was by Sarah, Luna, and Hermione, fighting Bellatrix. Their advantage was slight and only because she was easily distracted.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" Bellatrix screeched at Ginny, nearly hitting her square in the face. Sarah started to curse Bellatrix in return as Harry ran toward them, but both were stopped by Molly, who seeming in enough of a rage to be more deranged than Bellatrix in that moment.

"NOT MY DAUGHTER!" Bellatrix's eyes nearly bulged from her head as she laughed hard enough to stain her grayed skin bright red. Dismissing students who ran to her aid, Molly snarled. "No, she is MINE!"

"But what will happen to your children after I've killed you?" Bellatrix cooed. "You'd not want them to lose you in the same way they lost Freddie?" She made a pout, mocking concern. Then, in a split second, her face turned livid, eyes like saucers. She knew for a split second why Voldemort had screamed and what had happened at the moment she was hit in the chest with a curse; with a frozen expression, she toppled over backward.

"PROTEGO!" Harry screamed, separating Voldemort from the crowd of people and preventing retaliation by him for the loss of his most loyal servant.

The room was hushed, and Sarah finally registered that she was hit in the head at some point. The dull ache began at her scalp, crawling down her neck and spine. In the middle of the crowd, she crumpled to the floor, burying her face into the circle of black cloth and bones that surrounded her knees. She trembled, thinking back. The feeling she had was as if she had repelled the Dementors and jellyfish surrounding her the water but she was still drowning.

The water filling her ears made it hard for her to hear the people around her; she barely heard Harry and Voldemort.

"—love will not have you this time, Pott—"

"—not to do what you've done!"

She felt Snape's face pressed against hers. Certainly, he was only within her mind but memories are powerful things. That is what Ginny learned in her first year.

"Dumbledore was too---"

"—was a better wizard and better man---"

"—weak," Voldemort hissed.

The two voices were screaming out curses now, but each syllable echoed in such a way that it seemed like everyone in the room was dueling. But the only voice she could hear was Severus's. _Don't ever change._She no longer saw his face through closed eyes but a still photograph, like ones in Muggle books she'd seen, of great black eyes.

When other people saw these eyes, they saw something cold and foreboding. Sarah only saw the comforting darkness of dreamless sleep.

The silent lull of her thoughts was interrupted by an ecstatic roar, engulfing her.

Laying less than fifty feet from her was a gray form, shrouded in black. Molly commended Harry with a squishing hug, crying in joy.

Considering the number of motionless lumps at their feet, the uproar was brilliant. Sarah watched with glass eyes and a glass smile. Someone yanked her to her feet by her wrists, hugging her until someone tore her away into their own embrace. Arthur patted her arm while he was hugging Ginny.

Once the crowd had cleared, Sarah regained her ability to recognize faces. All of the empty shells were arranged in rows, even Voldemort's. Britta stood by Hermione, both looking as if they were thrilled and horrified. Molly collected her children, inviting Hermione, Britta, and Sarah to join them at their home for the night.

Outside, the moon was glowing in an awkward semi-circle as they began to leave the grounds to apparate to the Burrow.


	8. Okay

At the Burrow, the evening had quieted. It was late but most everyone was still awake. Mrs. Weasley seemed to have exhausted all of her tears, busying herself by knitting by hand and jumping from her seat to get blankets or hot chocolate for people before they could do it themselves.

Sarah popped her fingers, finally feeling warmer. She needed to sleep but had no desire to.

She stood, excusing herself. She climbed two flights of stairs to the lowest bathroom. There'd been enough illegal magic done tonight that conjuring a cloth wouldn't get her expelled.

Sitting on the edge of the tub with her feet near the faucet, she stripped her socks off and soaked the grayish cloth with warm water. She glanced behind her into the mirror. Blood had flowed down from a cut at the hairline, drying around her brows, it also had flowed around one eye and down her cheek. She wiped at her face with the cloth, staining it with pink, rust diluted by water.

She rinsed the cloth, making the water run an even paler pink than the cloth had been. She squeezed the absorbed water over her legs, starting to rinse away the cracked coat of blood. It was such a dark red, as it came away it looked like it was still his blood, half pure and flowing.

It looked as it had pouring from his neck. She shuddered at the thought, hiding her eyes and blindly rubbing away the red stain from her skin. When she opened her eyes again, she saw unevenly tanned skin from always wearing knee socks when she didn't wear pants. The blood was gone from her legs but not from the hem of her school skirt, nor her striped socks that lay heaped on the floor.

Sure, she knew a simple charm that could remove the reminder of Severus's death from her uniform, but she didn't feel it would be right to try to forget so soon. Sarah had her school bag on the floor. It had no books left inside but a pair of pants she couldn't fit in her trunk after she returned to school with the thick sweater from Mrs. Weasley.

She pulled them out of her bag, stuffing the skirt and socks inside, and shook the pants to rid them of tiny pieces of plumage she'd pulled from quills while thinking. The pants themselves were pink, an unusual color choice for Sarah. Despite her love of all bright colors, she never really seemed to have any affinity to pink.

She didn't want to attempt to fix her wild hair and just yanked it into an awkward ponytail before returning to the Weasley's sitting room. Mr. Weasley had fallen asleep in his chair with Molly by her side. George was sitting on the floor reading a copy of the Quibbler over Ginny's shoulder.

The silence mirror one she'd felt when she's arrived Christmas ever of her fifth year. The difference this time was that there didn't need to be words for everyone to see into the minds of the others around them. This time, not one word could explain their feelings better than the sound of Percy sipping hot chocolate given to him by his mother after a long period of silence that sounded like the presence of Inferi.

Snape and she had this sort of silence that said more than when they had hour long conversations.

His eyes could explain the world to her.

Without them, she just had find explanations herself.

After an evening of fighting Death Eaters, this didn't seem so daunting anymore.


End file.
